


Home with you

by auriadne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Service Top Sylvain, Smut, Touch-Starved, bottom dimitri, older dimivain, phd in sylvain studies, post canon bl route, sex as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auriadne/pseuds/auriadne
Summary: Sylvain feels like an outsider when all his friends have taken their roles at Dimitri’s side. What can he do for a king who appears to have everything?…In which, Dimitri is lonely, craving an intimacy he doesn’t know how to ask for.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 229





	Home with you

**Author's Note:**

> Song/Title [ FKA Twigs- home with you ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2Rro6TQgpU)

If Sylvain is being honest, he never expected this. The hard edge of the long meeting table juts into his lower back. He’s out of breath, lips swollen red. Just an hour ago, he’d been arguing with Ingrid over it.

_‘Act your age. This isn’t becoming of a Margrave.’ She’d said, not actually mad._

_Sylvain shrugged, flashed a grin that’s gotten him out of trouble more times than he can count. She’s grown to enjoy chewing him out, reminds her of when they were kids, and goddess, between her and Felix the kingdom could use a little levity._

It’s the last thing on Sylvain’s mind now. Forgotten with his palms digging splinters in the wood. His tongue darts across his lips where they’ve been bitten. Dimitri’s hand shakes, fisted in the collar of his shirt. His eye wide, almost startled. Ironic, considering its all his fault.

Sylvain deserves it. He brought it upon himself. He pushed. He always pushes, prying and poking at wounds that hit deep. He can see them, despite faking ignorance. And Dimitri, well…

He’s watched the man for nearly a month now. The smile he puts on. A good kingly façade. If the others have noticed it, they’ve said nothing, but Sylvain is all too familiar with the lie that masks his face into one more palatable.

Something’s missing. Sylvain can hazard a guess to what.

Dimitri’s face twists into one of self-reproach. His hand drops away. Sylvain wishes it didn’t.

“I’m sorry. “ Dimitri says, so full of honesty and the kind of self-hate Sylvain loathes from anyone but himself. It’s a punch to the gut, and Dimitri pulls away, leaving Sylvain alone in his own space.

It’s wrong. They’d been so close-

“No.” Sylvain finds his voice. “You don’t get to act like this didn’t happen.”

Dimitri stops.

“Sylvain, it’s not-“ His teeth grind, chewing at his lip in an uncertainty that reminds him of a much younger Dimitri. Indecision and a certain naiveté, he’s always found charming. “I don’t want you going along with this out of some sense of servitude. You are my friend far before you are my subject.”

It didn’t matter five minutes ago when Dimitri knocked the breath right out of him. Lips on his, hands desperately wrenched in his clothing. A well spilled over by Sylvain’s own doing.

And it kind of pisses him off that Dimitri _may_ be right. Maybe Sylvain feels this is something he _can_ do when the rest of his friends have settled into their positions within Dimitri’s court. Sylvain is the outsider. A satellite to their lives, not destined for Fhirdiad for long. Unable to provide for Dimitri the way a knight or an advisor can.

In a way, it pains him. Something left unfulfilled inside. What duty does he have towards his king? His friend? Who is so painstakingly lonely in a castle full of those who revere him? Who love him, but not in the way he desires.

Sylvain can be that remedy.

For once, he wants the man to be selfish. To admit to the intimacy he lacks. To ask for it. To ask _him_ for it. Because Sylvain would give it. Readily. Gladly. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it had Dimitri not said something.

But Sylvain knows him too well. Dimitri would never dare to complain, not about something like this. It’d be embarrassing, an admission of some self-perceived weakness to admit that the king actually has needs.

One’s that are clearly left unmet.

This is the farthest he’s gotten in setting Dimitri off. Sylvain jabbed with a teasing line after the rest of the nobles had filed out of the room. Dimitri flushed red. Embarrassment and heat coiled serpentine up his neck. Sylvain kept at it. Poking. Prodding. Deeper, deeper. Unrelenting until Dimitri broke.

Only once, and not for long. Sylvain felt hazy. The oxygen devoured straight from his lungs. But Dimitri drew himself away- far too sober, leaving Sylvain drunk. It’s the closest to love he knows. A love so entwined with duty, it feels dishonest. Sylvain hides it. He’s always been good at that.

“You’re Dimitri,” Sylvain says in an admission almost cruel when he knows it is what Dimitri wants to hear. “Before you are my king.”

Dimitri’s shoulders stiffen. A breath catches between his lips, held strained in silence.

Sylvain almost has him. Almost.

The tips of his fingers graze the fabric of his regalia, against the twining gold cord. “Let me be near you.” He whispers, wary to scare the king off.

Dimitri avoids his gaze. It must be the last of the resolve he has left. Something that would be broken down if he were to look Sylvain in the eye and see his own ready acceptance.

“You’re only going to leave.”

Sylvain’s grip tightens.

“It’s true.” He mutters. He is to take his father’s title within the year. It’s one thing he can’t lie about. “You could order me to stay.”

He won’t.

“ _Sylvain.”_ Dimitri’s face twists in remorse, in regret.

No, no. He won’t let this go awry. Won’t let Dimitri live another day with this.

He catches Dimitri’s cheek against his palm- warm to the touch, holding him steady even when he tries to turn away. He raises Dimitri’s head. “Please.” It’s barely a question when Sylvain oversteps boundaries far beyond his station and kisses him. Something softer and more tender than he’s accustomed to. Dimitri shudders beneath it, a shiver shooting through his body.

His heart beats rapidly under the hand on his chest. Goddess, Dimitri. When was the last time someone kissed him? Held him?

The man Sylvain looks up to, their leader. So strong and selfless. Held together with ties so weak mere touch can break them. He’s so transparent. It makes Sylvain wish he’d acted sooner. He drags him closer, arms wrapping around his back. Dimitri’s chin rests on the crook of his shoulder.

His voice cracks, rough against Sylvain’s ear.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

_Because I-_

Sylvain’s mouth shuts, a tight line to keep his secrets close and his true feelings closer.

“You’re important to me.” He offers. It’s a diversion but not an insincere one. Dimitri’s forehead burrows further into his collar, unsure whether to accept Sylvain’s offer. He’s unrelenting as usual. “I want to give you what you need. Let me.”

He makes a strangled sound, muffled into skin. Dimitri’s mouth hovers over his pulse in humid breaths. It sends a wave of gooseflesh up his arms, and his own blood pounds in anticipation. Dimitri quakes, hands twining in the front of Sylvain’s shirt. He’s never felt like a lifeline, so needed, even if only for this.

_Only._

“Hey, there,” Sylvain reassures. His fingers dig into the back of Dimitri’s cloak, holding him steady, their bodies pressed close. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

Dimitri, despite his worries, melts under Sylvain’s touch. Amicable and malleable as Sylvain helps him undress. He revels the exposure of each new strip of skin, skimming it with lips across his chest and stomach. His fingers pry this time not at wounds but heated skin, soft under his touch and marred with old scars.

Dimitri squirms, buried in dense bedding and pelts of plush furs. His bare chest rises with each breath- eyes heavy, his good one half lidded drawn solely to him. _Him._ It seems almost obscene to see his king laid out like this for him. Needy, wrestling with himself over whether to grab Sylvain like he knows he could and take what he wants right there.

Sylvain licks his lips, settled between Dimitri’s thighs. He noses the thick thatch of hair leading to his cock, and Dimitri shudders. The muscles in his legs twitch, heels digging back against the bed. Dimitri grumbles, discontented, bordering a whine. Sylvain’s name a rumbling complaint from the back of his throat.

It’s intoxicating to hear Dimitri call him like that. It floods his brain, stoking his own arousal to a low burn. Sylvain sucks down a breath. Calm, collected. This needs to last.

His cheek brushes beneath Dimitri’s navel, the scruff of his face scratchy against the skin there. “What do you want?” He asks, even though the answer is obvious. The thick line of Dimitri’s cock straining against his undergarments is hard not to notice.

Dimitri’s nails dig further into the fabric. He wants them on him, buried in his hair, pulling and urging him onto his dick.

“I want-” Dimitri’s brow furrows. His nose scrunches up. It’s hard for him to say these kinds of things, Sylvain knows. It’s why he wants to hear it from his mouth, something crass and demanding. “ _Touch_ _me_.” He breaks. It’s so vanilla but from Dimitri its practically lewd.

“Is that not what I’m doing?” Sylvain is being mean, smirk sly, thumbing the flesh of his inner thigh.

Dimitri’s back arches, hips thrusting forward a pant drawn pretty past his lips. Sylvain catches him, palming the swell of his dick, filled out thick with arousal. It twitches against his hand, already wet and soaking through. Pent up. So very, very pent up. Not much time for things more carnal when there’s a nation to run.

_“Please.”_

Sylvain hums. The vibration radiates across Dimitri’s skin. “Of course, Dimitri.”

Dimitri moans a wonderful, deep sound. It affects him, being stripped away of title and circumstance. The intimate, familiar nature of his own name, when all day it is nothing but status, respect, and endless streams of ‘your majesty’s. He wants to be treated like the man he is. Fucked for who he is. Not as a royal, a hero, a product of his bloodline.

Sylvain can empathize, and pulls him from his pants, dick heavy against his hand. Hot, thick, and flushed dark.

“ _Dimitri_ ,” Sylvain’s mouth ghosts against it, the taste heady. His kings name falls in a spell he’s entranced himself with. Sylvain feels like he’s babbling, filling the void with something inconsequential. But when he looks up, he realizes its anything but.

Dimitri’s hand splays across his mouth, fingers tensed awkward against flushed skin. The look in his eye. Goddess. This is right. Sylvain tries to convince himself, amidst the pang of his own chest he long thought hollow. It’s right for him to be here in Dimitri’s bedchambers- to tear him apart and piece him back together.

Isn’t it?

It’s a service. A selfish one on Sylvain’s part. Seeking to appease Dimitri in a way only he can, and in turn appeasing himself for something that far surpasses simple duty. Dimitri isn’t the only one alone surrounded by others. Sylvain’s eyes squeeze shut with a shuddered breath. He shouldn’t second guess himself. It’s never gotten him anywhere good.

There’s a warmth against his face- Dimitri’s hand. It angles his chin up higher to meet him. His thumb brushes the highpoint of his cheek, a fondness in the touch that Sylvain is wholly unaccustomed to. He grits a stilted gasp, opening his eyes to Dimitri.

He’s concerned. Of course, he is. Sylvain isn’t making this easy. Goddess, he’s rusty.

“Shh. There’s nothing to worry about.” He reassures not only Dimitri but himself. He’s hurdled past the boundaries of their friendship ages ago. Decided to ignore any ramifications this might have. It’s not important. Not really. “Focus on the feeling. Focus on me, Dimitri.”

His hand, shiny and slick with oil, strokes over Dimitri’s dick, rubbing him through it. Precum drips down his fingers in thick globs. He draws them to his mouth, sliding his fingers in, running his tongue between and sucking around them for show.

Dimitri reacts predictively with a groan. His dick twitches in front of him, desperate for attention.

“Don’t tease me.” Dimitri says, pained. “I need-“

Sylvain steals his voice in an instant when he swallows him down. His lips stretch around the width of Dimitri’s cock, taking what he can manage into his mouth. Saliva pools as he sucks around him, tongue rolling against the underside.

His other hand teases, cupping his balls firmly, tight, before slipping back.

“ _Oh_.” Dimitri rasps at the sensation, torn between despair and awe.

Fuck if that didn’t go straight to his cock. If only he had all day.

Dimitri is receptive, body twitching at the new intrusion when he slides a finger inside. The stretch is slow, deliberate. Sylvain drives his fingers deeper, Dimitri’s insides warm and tight around him. His fingers curve, knowingly, rubbing incessantly, until the moment Dimitri gasps. He arches off the bed with a thud.

It nearly chokes him, tears forming in his eyes from the cock half down his throat. Sylvain pulls off wetly with a trail of spit and cum smeared around his lips. Dimitri makes an unrestrained sound, a complaint at the sudden lack of contact.

He shushes him tenderly with a messy kiss, drawing it across his body to cast the memory to his lips. The sharp line of Dimitri’s jaw, the curve of his collar, the swell of his pecs. Hands run the sides of his body, still sturdy and strong if somewhat softer, mumbling against the scars that cross Dimitri’s chest.

“I’ll take care of you.”

Dimitri groans. His legs shift and Sylvain along with them. He sighs, “You’re too much.”

“Am I?” Sylvain chides.

“Don’t be coy. You know what you’re doing.”

He chuckles.

“Is that not why you kissed me? Let me into your bed?” Out of everyone. Him. _Him._ “You know I can treat you right. Don’t you, Dimitri?”

The silence would have been unnerving had Dimitri not surged forward, mouths crashing together with a new fervor. Like earlier, it’s disorienting. Not unlike inebriation the way it clouds his mind with arousal and desire. Sylvain touches himself for the first time. His cock left needy while he focused his attention elsewhere. It draws a moan, wet against Dimitri’s mouth. His king’s hand covers his own, rough and scarred like the rest of him, and better than anything Sylvain’s felt in months.

“Dimi-“ He moans as he jerks him off, coating his cock in a sheen of oil

“I’m not the only one that needs taken care of.” He breathes and Sylvain just about loses it.

Dimitri works with Sylvain to line him up, flushed red under a thin layer of sweat. His blonde hair is messy, left undone. Sylvain burns with a new heat. He thinks Dimitri beautiful, even more so when he sinks into him. Dimitri pulses hot around his cock. Sylvain goes slow, mumbling quiet words of praise and adoration.

“Deeper, Goddess.” Dimitri mutters, heels digging against Sylvain urging him inside. His dick throbs, as it’s thrust further, deeper. Always deeper. Sylvain grabs the thick meat of Dimitri’s thighs- pulling and pushing, fingers digging recognizable bruises against his flesh.

Sylvain drops a low pant, head dipped down. Dimitri rocks into him, hips grinding with the motion of each thrust of his cock. For once, it seems like he’s lost. The weight of his burdens released by Sylvain’s dick. Dimitri’s arm is thrown across his face. He peeks at Sylvain beneath it. Pupil blown wide in arousal, spit dripping from his mouth.

“ _Sylvain_.”

Oh. That’s new.

Dimitri’s emotions are barely dammed, trickling through in the waver of his voice. Sylvain’s chest wretches. It nearly knocks the breath out of him, heart gripped tight in a vice it threatens to burst out of. He falls forward, arms caught beside Dimitri’s head. His eyes widen. Dimitri is nearly crying, just barely. The smallest tears prick from the stimulation, the closeness, the touch.

Is this some kind of retribution? Divine punishment for his past?

Sylvain loves him _. Loves him_. Really, does.

And he doesn’t know what to do.

He stares down at Dimitri wrecked by his hand, and Sylvain undone by his own heart.

He leans down to kiss away the tears, lips brushing the dusting of pale lashes on his cheeks. Dimitri holds him there, searching against his mouth desperately for something Sylvain only just realized himself capable of. He fumbles over his weeping cock sandwiched between them, and finally spills over, warm cum dribbling over his hand.

“I’ve got you.” Sylvain croons, stroking him through it. His mouth feather light over Dimitri’s lips. He rides out his own pleasure, thrusting shallow inside Dimitri until it hits him, and he pulls out cumming across the bed. 

Sylvain falls forward, slotting himself against Dimitri’s body, face buried in the crook of his neck. His skin salty from sweat as he sucks immature marks against his skin. Mine. _Mine_. Like he has any claim over a man like Dimitri.

Dimitri’s hand tangles in his hair stroking his scalp. It’s comforting and it makes him nuzzle deeper against him. “Thank you.” Dimitri says earnestly.

“Please don’t thank me for sex.” Sylvain blanches.

“It’s more than that.”

It is too astute an observation. It’s always more than sex.

It’s Sylvain dealing poorly with the pressure of his bloodline. It’s Sylvain being an ass to prevent anyone from actually getting close. It’s Sylvain trying to make up for time lost, trying to be relied on by one of the people he values the most. Trying to stamp down anything of actual significance that would hurt him, relying on the physicality he’s always kept his self emotionally distanced from.

_And failing._

“I-“

“It’s alright. I don’t think I was the only one who needed something out of this.”

Sylvain rolls off him and buries his face in the pillow next to him.

Dimitri is right. Of course, he is.

What is he supposed to do now? Knowing soon he’d be called back to Gautier territory and have to face his own responsibilities there.

“Tell me to stay.” He asks, perhaps too hopefully.

Dimitri sighs. “I want to. Believe me. But I cannot.” Sylvain knows this. Knew this at the start when Dimitri worried over his inevitable departure from Fhirdiad. Dimitri strokes the nape of his neck, a gesture so tender it makes him quake. “You’ll make a fine Margrave, Sylvain.”

Will he? Sylvain hazards a laugh, but it’s more of a groan.

_I love you. I think I always knew._ Sylvain wants to say. Knowing that it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t have Dimitri absolving him of his duty to his country, letting him stay free by Dimitri’s side. Not that he actually thinks he wants that- not when he’ll finally be in the position to change things. For the better, he hopes.

Sylvain thinks Dimitri understands. That he knows what he’s leaving unspoken.

His fingers thrum anxiously against the mattress. They’re stilled in the warmth of Dimitri’s own hand.

“I will be here for you, as you are for me.”

When did he become so transparent that even Dimitri sees through him? He thought he was the one mending Dimitris problems, never expecting Dimitri to see his own.


End file.
